“We may have to negotiate. Can you come over and discuss your fee?”
“I can do that,” China says, without hesitation. “McQuaid is out of town on an investigation and Caitie is sleeping over at Chelsea’s house tonight. There’s food left from the Friends of the Library lunch. How about if I bring supper? We can eat while we talk about how I’m going to keep you out of jail.”
Ruby thinks that China, bless her, is exactly the kind of friend you need in a situation like this.
“You have read my mind,” she says gratefully.
“Please, no!” China gives a melodramatic moan. “Not that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ruby has just clicked off the phone when there’s a knock at the front door. She opens it to Sheila, draped in an olive-drab poncho against the rain. She is holding a brown paper bag sealed with yellow plastic tape printed with the word EVIDENCE in big black letters.
“Thought I’d better give you this myself,” she says, handing Ruby the bag. “It’s Allison’s shirt, out of the gear bag in her car. I’m breaking the chain-of-custody evidence rules here. I didn’t want to compromise any of my officers by asking them to bring it.”
“Thank you,” Ruby says, taking the bag. “I don’t know how this is going to work, so I can’t promise I’ll come up with anything.”
“I don’t really expect you to,” Sheila says, sounding resigned. “But call me, whatever you find. Be sure I get that shirt back. And don’t spill anything on it.”
“I can do that,” Ruby says. When Sheila has gone, she drops the bag on the hallway table. “Sorry, not now,” she mutters to the bag. “You have to wait until I’ve talked to China about you.”
True to her word, China arrives twenty minutes later, with a basket of food and raindrops glittering in her hair. “I hope you’re hungry.” She puts the basket on the table.
“I’m anxious to hear your plan for keeping me out of jail,” Ruby says. “But let’s eat first. I’m starved.”
“You won’t get any argument from me about that.” China takes containers out of the basket and puts them on the counter. “Cucumber-tomato soup, sausage quiche, deviled eggs with rosemary.” She looks around. “Where’s Pagan?”
“Out and about on kitty business,” Ruby says. “The food looks totally wonderful. I have some rosé. Want a glass of that?”
“Perfect,” China says, putting out the deviled eggs.
As Ruby takes a chilled bottle out of the fridge, she asks, “How was business today? Was there a lot of traffic in the shops?” It feels like a century since she left the Cave that morning.
“About average for the last week of August,” China says. “Lots of people are out of town. But the Friends’ lunch brought in some customers and we had several calls about next month’s classes. We need to get our newsletter out next week. Lori wants us to help publicize her weaving classes. Are you teaching astrology again?”
“Tuesday mornings. And a class on divination on Thursday afternoons.” Ruby takes two wineglasses out of the cupboard, feeling relieved to talk—and think—about something other than Allison’s abduction. “I’m curious. Why was that customer looking for tea tree oil?”
China grins. “Nail fungus. My suggestion: mix tea tree oil with equal amounts of oregano and cinnamon oil. Powerful antifungal.”
“I thought that was it,” Ruby says. “Somebody was asking me about that the other day. Maybe you should bottle up a blend and sell it.”
“Now, there’s a thought,” China says. She glances at the vase of yellow roses in the middle of the table. “A secret admirer?”
“Ramona,” Ruby says, pouring the wine. “She thinks we should start a psychic consulting service together.”
“Oh, no!” China says, her eyes widening. “You wouldn’t go into business with your evil twin, would you?”
“Absolutely not.” Ruby puts out the plates and tableware. “I’ve already declined, but Ramona doesn’t take no for an answer. When she was telling me about it, she got so excited that every electrical gadget in this kitchen went bonkers. Even the old grandmother clock in the hall started chiming.”
Ruby’s recitation is interrupted when her cellphone rings, and she sees that it’s Jessica Nelson. She debates whether to take the call and decides that if she doesn’t, Jessie will just keep phoning. “Persistence” is her middle name—which is a useful personality characteristic to have if you’re a reporter. When she gets her teeth into a story, she won’t let it go. And Ruby certainly doesn’t want her to get her teeth into this one. She holds up a finger to China and rolls her eyes dramatically. Jessica, she mouths, and China nods.
“Hey, Jessica,” Ruby says brightly. “What’s up?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Jessica says. “What’s going on with this missing person report on Allison Montgomery?”
“Missing person report?” Ruby asks, with as much innocence as she can muster. “Why in the world are you asking me a question like that?”
“Come on, Ruby, give me a break,” Jessica pleads. “I’ve seen the crime log for today. And my source tells me that you visited the PSPD this morning, talked to the lead investigator, and made a formal written statement in the case. Are you a friend of Allison Montgomery’s? How long have you known her?”
“I don’t know her,” Ruby protests. “It’s the truth, Jess. So far as I know, I’ve never met her.”
Jessica plows on. “I understand that Allison is a breast cancer survivor. Is that your connection with her? And if this is a routine no-body incident, why isn’t your statement available? I’ve got a deadline, Ruby. What’s the story?”
“Have you asked Detective Connors?” Ruby says. “If he’s not reachable, you could try Chief Dawson.”
“Connors?” Jessica chuckles sourly. “That man won’t give me the time of day, let alone give me something to work with. The chief won’t talk to me. I even tried Connie Page, her assistant—I couldn’t get a peep out of her, either.” Her voice takes on an edge. “Come on, Ruby. Why is everybody buttoned up? I know there’s a story here. What is it?”
“I’m sorry,” Ruby begins. “I wish I could—”
At the sink, China takes an empty pan out of the dish drainer and flings it on the floor with a metallic crash. “Oh, no!” she cries. “Ruby, help!”
“Oops,” Ruby says into the phone. “Gotta go, Jess. China’s just dropped a pan of boiling water on her foot. Talk to you later. Bye.” She clicks the phone off. “Good thinking,” she says to China.
“Jessica isn’t going to quit, you know,” China says, as they sit down at the table.
“I know,” Ruby says. “I would help her if I could. But she’s a reporter. Give her two words, and she’ll turn them into a two-page story. With photographs.”
Outside the kitchen window, the rain has slacked off, but the early evening sky is still heavily covered with clouds. While they eat, Ruby relates the events of the morning, her conversation with Sophia, the phone call from Sheila, and Connors’ theory of the case.
“Good Lord,” China says, shaking her head. “You are in all kinds of trouble, aren’t you.” It isn’t a question.
Trying not to sound anxious, Ruby asks, “Do you think Connors is going to arrest me?”
“No, but I certainly see his point.” China finishes eating and pushes the plate away. “And I am definitely PO’d at myself. I should have thought of this from the police point of view.”
Ruby frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“What the detective has to work with—all he has—are Allison’s car, her cell, her earbuds, and that gray van. That’s all we know about, anyway. And since your explanation is totally off his radar, the only logical narrative he can come up with is that you fabricated the crime and planted the evidence. You and Allison. Together.”
“But a neighbor told the police she actually saw the van,” Ruby reminds her.
“Doesn’t matter,” China says. “You or Allison or both of you cou
ld have planted the van at the same time you planted the cell and the earbuds. Connors is working through a standard no-body incident checklist, trying to establish the facts of the case. He’s probably concentrating on the victim’s vehicle, which is going to tell him a lot.”
Ruby remembers putting her hand on the hood and hearing nothing but a dull, metallic silence. “That SUV didn’t tell me anything,” she says. “What’s it going to tell him?”
“For starters, he’s looking for an indication that she meant to return to the vehicle. If there’s a purse in the car—”
“There is. I saw it.”
“Does the purse contain her driver’s license? Credit cards? Money? Glasses, contact lenses? If all that stuff is there, it’s probably safe to assume that she intended to return to the car. But not necessarily. Connors will remember that there have been staged kidnappings when the so-called victim left all those items behind, to reinforce the illusion of the kidnap. I had a case like that once.”
“Really?” China has had all kinds of cases in her life as a criminal defense attorney, but this one surprises Ruby. “Why would somebody want to do that?”
China shrugs. “Because the ‘victim’ owed a whale of a lot of money to a mob guy who refused to take ‘I’m broke’ for an answer. She was scared.”
“Well, that’s not true here,” Ruby says firmly. “Allison really was kidnapped.”
“So you say,” China replies. Before Ruby can respond, she goes on. “But if you did stage her kidnapping, you can be charged with giving false information to the police. Under the Texas Penal Code, that’s obstruction.”
“Uh-oh,” Ruby said. “That’s what Sheila was talking about.”
China nodded. “And if the chief of police attempts to protect a friend from a charge of obstruction, she is obstructing.”
“Jeez,” Ruby says. “It’s a lose-lose situation, isn’t it?” They have finished eating, so she gets up and starts taking their dishes to the sink.
“It can be,” China says, “especially where a psychic is concerned. A couple of years ago, a sheriff over in East Texas got a call from a woman who claimed that there was a mass grave on a nearby ranch. She said she had seen it in a vision. The sheriff felt he had to treat her claim as a legitimate tip, so he got a search warrant and he and his deputies started digging. After a while, they decided the job was too big for them, so they called in the regional FBI office, the Texas Rangers, and a pack of cadaver dogs.”
“Sounds like a major production,” Ruby says, coming back to the table.
“It was a circus, and it went on for several weeks. It got even bigger when somebody in the sheriff’s office leaked the story to the media. Reporters flocked in, along with camera crews, sound trucks, and TV helicopters. In a couple of days, it was all over the newspapers and the cable channels. The ranch owner was never charged—but that didn’t stop the media from dogging him and his wife.”
“Ah,” Ruby says ruefully. “I see where this is going.”
“Right. There was no mass grave, no corpses, not a single body. The ranch owner sued the psychic and won a multimillion-dollar award for defamation. God only knows how much the sheriff’s office spent on the search, not to mention the FBI and the Rangers. The psychic was charged with obstruction of justice for filing a false police report.” China picks up her wine glass and drains it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your detective had this case in mind when he heard your story about the kidnapping, Ruby.”
Ruby sits back in her chair and lets out her breath. There is a long silence. Finally, she says, “Well, I’m afraid there’s more.” She gets up, fetches the evidence bag, and puts it on the table. “Allison’s shirt. Sheila took it out of the gear bag in her car.”
“Let me get this straight,” China says, frowning at the brown bag with its bright yellow EVIDENCE tape. “Sheila specifically asked you to use this to get in touch with the victim?”
Ruby nods. “She also asked me not to mention it to Connors—who explicitly told me to stay out of the investigation. ‘No more woo-woo,’ is what he said, quote unquote. When I reminded her about that, all she said was, ‘I outrank him.’”
“Which is true,” China agrees. “But you’re a civilian. Giving you this piece of evidence is a serious breach of police procedure. Let’s hope it doesn’t cause a problem for her.”
“You mean, if Connors wants to get nasty with her?”
“Right. As you say, he’s fairly new in the department, which is a plus. He may not know his way around yet. But Sheila is a woman in a man’s world. A pregnant woman, at that. She’s especially vulnerable to other people’s maneuverings right now. A wrong move or two, and she could lose her job.” She frowns. “And this could be a wrong move.”
“I hate this kind of stuff,” Ruby says unhappily. “People playing power games.” She thinks of Connors. “Especially men playing power games.”
“That’s life in a bureaucracy, I’m afraid.” China regards her. “But if you can locate Allison, you’ll be taking Sheila off the hook. And Allison, of course. And yourself.” She’s still frowning. “Can you do it?”
She doesn’t say This is a real test of your psychic skills. But Ruby can hear her thinking it, as clearly as if she had said it out loud.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Ruby says. “Most of the time, when I go into someone’s mind, it’s unintentional. It isn’t something I deliberately try to do. Working with Allison will be a lot harder, because I’ve never met her. What’s more, she isn’t here, where I could see her and touch her. This isn’t as easy as picking up your phone and making a call, you know. Or turning on your GPS and telling it to locate an address.” She knows she sounds whiny, but she can’t help it.
“I think you should give it a try,” China says. “Do you remember what happened a couple of summers ago, when we were at your friend Claire’s house? With Rachel Blackwood’s ghost? You helped us understand all the weird stuff that was going on in that house. Claire was scared and ready to move out. You made it possible for her to stay.”*
Ruby shivers. No. She doesn’t remember what happened, for Rachel’s ghost had invaded her. Or rather, she had willingly yielded, so that Rachel could tell her long-untold story. Whatever Rachel had said had helped Claire, who was still living quite happily in the house. And it had helped her, too. The experience—an important one—had connected her with her own lineage, with her grandmother and her great-grandmother. And with her gift.
China clears her throat. “Is it Sarah?” she says quietly. “Or Ellen Hunt? Is that why you don’t want to do this?”
“Please,” Ruby says. “Let’s not talk about . . . them.”
She closes her eyes. She barely knew Ellen Hunt, but she has been trying to forget about Sarah for years, without a great deal of success. Her friend’s disappearance is an old hurt, a long-ago wound that refuses to be healed. It is still fresh and raw.
“I think we should,” China says. “There are some interesting similarities, you know.”
Ruby fights back the sudden tears. Sarah, beautiful Sarah, had been her best friend. When she disappeared halfway through their junior year, people said she had run away—an explanation that seemed to fit her bold, rebellious nature. Sarah was always looking for another adventure.
But even though there was no concrete evidence, Ruby had known with a dreadful certainty that Sarah had been abducted. She couldn’t identify the kidnapper—a man whose face she could never quite see—but she had believed she knew where her friend was being held. She had seen the place, an abandoned house at the end of a narrow, tree-lined lane, in her dreams. And not just once, but over and over again, before Sarah had disappeared and long afterward.
But when she finally mustered the courage to tell the police where to look, they found only evidence that Sarah had been in the house, perhaps held against her will. She was gone. She had never come back. Was she alive? Nobody knew.
Ever since, Ruby had been living with the belief that this
was all her fault. She might have prevented Sarah’s kidnapping. Or if she had trusted herself to go to the cops sooner, Sarah might have been found. But she was too late, too late. Either way, both ways, she was responsible.
With a compassionate look, China continues. “If you’re able to locate Allison, the cops can send in a rescue team. She’s safe, you’re off the hook, and so is Sheila. Nobody is going to care how you did it. Except for maybe Detective Connors, although his opinion won’t count for much, if you succeed.”
Ruby takes a breath, steadying herself against the fear. Sarah and Allison. Allison and Sarah. “And if I don’t? If I . . . fail?”
“You can always return the evidence bag to Sheila and tell her that you struck out. I doubt that the chief will let her detective know that she gave you the green light to practice some serious woo-woo behind his back. Of course, Allison may be dead by then.” China gives Ruby a hard, straight look. “I guess it depends on how much you want to help her—and how afraid you are.”
Afraid? Ruby can feel fear like an icy tide rising inside her, freezing her chest so that it is hard to take a breath. Her mouth is dry and her tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of her mouth.
But China is right. Allison may be dead by then.
No. Allison may be dead by now.
* * *
* Widow’s Tears
Chapter Fifteen
The shirt is a dark blue boatneck T-shirt, size medium. Ruby holds it up. On the front is a black logo and the words Body Matters Fitness Center. On the back, Take Care of Your Body. It’s the Only One You’ll Ever Have.
“Hey, look!” Ruby is surprised. “Body Matters is my gym, China. On Houston Street, across from the library. Allison must go there, too.”
China frowns. “I thought you went to the gym on the other side of I-35.”
“It closed a few months ago—financial difficulties, I heard. Some of the trainers moved over to Body Matters, so that’s where I’m working out now—or I plan to. So far, I’ve only been there a couple of times.”
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